When The Rains End
by Willow Edmond
Summary: Since Dean is feeling a little down after the break up of Shield, Roman invites him to spend a couple days at his place. At Roman's fiance's suggestion, Dean gets to babysit. Chaos ensues. (This is a sequel to After The Storm, but can be read as a stand alone too. R/R is greatly appreciated.)
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Notes: While this is a sequel to my first story, After The Storm, it also works as a stand alone. The only thing you need to know is that in this world, Roman's fiance is named Jessica and his daughter is Leah. **I ****don't**** write fan fiction about real people, so Leah and Jessica are totally products of my imagination and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental. ** _

_I do not own any rights to Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose, and Seth Rollins. They are the properties of the WWE and/or the actors that play them. This story is for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights._

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><p><strong>When The Rains End<br>**

**(Or, Adventures in Babysitting)**

"Dean," a familiar voice called out, "Dean, where are you?"

Dean looked up from the couch as his friend Roman walked into the room, holding some papers in his hand. "I'm right here, exactly where I was half an hour ago, when you ran off to play on the computer," he said, rolling his eyes. "What, did you think I was going to vanish in a puff of smoke?"

Roman frowned. "You haven't been-"

"-No, I haven't been smoking," Dean interrupted. "I said 'puff of smoke,' it's an expression. I haven't even vaped since I've been here. My e-cig is still in my luggage." Well, that wasn't exactly true, it was in the guest room he was using, recharging, but he hadn't touched it since they arrived here yesterday, that much was true. He had thought about it a few times, but had talked himself out of it. _I have to find a way to get over this myself,_ he told himself. _It's bad enough I broke down Monday night and actually smoked a real cigarette__. Even though it was awesome,__ I'm never going to break the nicotine habit if I'm__ smoking or__ vaping every time some little thing happens. _He knew he was trying to downplay how he was really feeling, Seth's betrayal on Raw, even though it had been totally scripted, has bothered him a lot. He'd vented to Roman about it for almost the entire night after it happened, and got Roman so worried that when they were both given a couple days off, Roman insisted Dean come home with him and spend a couple of days with him, his fiance, Jessica, and his daughter, Leah. Although, if Dean were to be honest, he hadn't put up that much of a protest, which was another sign that the breakup of The Shield had been more painful to him that it should have been.

"Good," Roman nodded, approving of Dean's control. "Glad to hear it."

"Not like I've had the time anyway," Dean grumbled. "'Dean, wake up, buddy, let's go running!'" His voice fell into an overly enthusiastic, but pretty accurate imitation of Roman's. "'Good run, let's go to the gym!'" He went back to his normal voice, "I thought the point of you coming home was to spend a little time with your lady and your daughter. How do you spend any time with them when you spend so much time at the gym?'"

"I was up two hours before you were and spent time with Leah," Roman reminded him. "And tomorrow, we're going to the zoo, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Dean yawned and sat up straighter. He reached for the TV remote and hit the off button. "The zoo..." his voice trailed off for a moment, and he shook his head. "I don't think I've ever been to the zoo. Maybe as a field trip when I was in school, but like, my mom never took me to the zoo."

"Well, Leah loves it, so this'll be a good family thing. Her mom, her dad, and her Uncle Dean." Roman sat down next to him, still holding the sheet of paper he'd walked in with. "And, as for spending time with Jessica, well," he paused and grinned. "You did agree to babysit tonight, so we can have a date night."

"Yep, I did," Dean agreed. He wasn't too worried about it, Leah was a pretty cool kid for someone who was five going on six. She was cute, of course, considering what both of her parents looked like, the kid was destined to be cute now and beautiful later. And on top of that, she was one of those happy, shiny kids that almost seemed to sparkle with life. She was a little shy around strangers, but Dean had spent enough time with her that she felt relaxed around him. He was Uncle Dean, a title that pleased him more than he wanted to admit. "Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid."

"I wasn't worried about that," Roman said quickly. He handed Dean one of the pieces of paper he was holding. "Here, look this over."

"What's this?" Dean asked, taking it from him. It was a list of names and phone numbers, double column, single spaced, small font, and it took up the entire page.

"Just some phone numbers," Roman said. "I don't think you'll need them, but just in case."

Dean started reading the paper and frowning. "Okay, police, fire, ambulance... can't I just dial 911 if I need those things?"

"Yes, and that should be your first option," Roman agreed. "But I read once that sometimes those lines are jammed and people have had to call those services directly. I just wanted you to be covered."

Dean continued reading the list. "Pediatrician. Okay, that makes sense."

"Dr. O'Heelan is wonderful, Leah adores her," Roman said. "The first number is the answering service, the number below is her personal cell phone number. Don't be afraid to use the direct number if you need to. She's told us she doesn't mind."

"Oh-kay." Dean dragged out the word as he continued to read. "Your parents?"

"They're the back up people to go to. They've spent a lot of time with Leah, so if you come across something you can't handle, call them."

"Jessica's mom?"

"Second back up. She's spent as much time with Leah as my folks, so it's about the same."

"Your brothers?"

"Third back up."

"Your sisters?"

"Back up."

"Jessica's brothers?"

"Back up." Roman said. "Same with the neighbors on either side of us and across the street. Which brings me to this," he held out the other piece of paper. "I'll have Jessica sign this before we leave, I already have. This is, well, I guess you'd call it a permission slip. If the worst does happen, it lets whoever needs to know that we have entrusted Leah into your care and that we give you permission to allow doctors to treat her to save her life. It expires at Midnight, so we'll do our best to be home by then."

Dean stared at his friend, his brother, the man he had trusted with his life on more than one occasion. "Dude...are you for real?"

"Better safe than sorry!" Roman said only sounding the slightest bit defensive.

Dean continued looking at the phone list. "Her teacher? Her _dance instructor?_"

"I wasn't sure what problems could arise and who would be best to deal with them. I didn't want to take chances."

Dean stared at Roman in shock. Half of him expected Roman to burst out laughing and yell, "Gotcha!" but nope, he was serious. Dean went back to the list. "_Triple H? Stephan__ie__? _

"They _are_ parents," Roman interjected. "They have three daughters so-"

"**_Seth__?__" _**Dean interrupted, his voice rising. "You have Seth Motherfu-" he started to say the full word he wanted to say, but an angry glare from Roman made him backtrack, "You have Seth _Rollins_ on here?"

"Well," Roman hesitated. "I just was putting together every number I could think of and..." he shrugged and let his voice trail off.

"Man," Dean shook his head feeling slightly hurt, but went back to the list. "Her _Karate instructor?_" He shook his head again, wondering if he was going to loosen his brain with all the shaking of it he was doing tonight. "She's taking karate?"

Roman nodded. "That's where she is now, don't you remember? Jessica took her while we were at the gym. They should be back soon."

"At least you know you won't have to worry about some weirdo grabbing her," Dean muttered. "She'll kick their ass."

"Well, she is top of her class," Roman admitted, unable to hide the look of pride. "It's just a kid's class, but it's a start. If she continues, I won't have to worry about anyone taking advantage of her when she's older."

"Uh, yeah." Dean went back to looking at the list. "Roman, like, I have your cell phone number on speed dial. I have Jessica's cell phone number on speed dial. Isn't that enough?"

"We're going to the movies and out to dinner," Roman said, trying to ignore Dean's stare at him by refusing to look in his eyes. "You know how P.O'ed people get when your cell phone goes off in the movies and -"

"So, put it on vibrate," Dean suggested, eyes narrowing.

"We will, but the restaurant we're going to, well, it doesn't have the best cell reception. The last time I was there I could barely get two bars. Which reminds me, the phone number for the restaurant is there too. As well as the theater."

"Roman, you're going to think I'm crazy, but I have this feeling, call it a hunch," Dean said slowly. "That you do not fully trust me with your daughter."

"I never said that!" Roman objected. "I just know that you're not used to kids and Leah_ can _be a handful so..."

"So you think I'll screw up?" Dean asked.

"Uh," Roman stammered. "Well," As he struggled for the right words to say, the sound of the front door opening was heard. "Wow, I guess they're back!" An eager relief filled his voice as the sound of small feet running across the floor was heard along with the sound of the door shutting.

"We're home!" Roman's fiance, Jessica shouted.

At the same time, Leah came bursting into the family room where Roman and Dean were. She was still wearing her gi, her hair in two pigtails, streaming behind her. She ran over to the sofa and threw herself into Roman's arms. "Daddy!"

"Leah-belle!" Roman scooped her up for a hug. "How was class?"

"Good. The teacher says I'm doing great." She beamed. "I can kick higher than any of the other kids!"

"That's great!" Roman enthused. "I knew when you started that you'd be the best in your class."

"Uh huh," Leah nodded happily, then noticed Dean sitting next to Roman. "Unca Dean!" She crawled off her father's lap and fell onto Dean's. "You're still here."

"Yup," Dean caught her around the waist. She sat down on his lap, facing him, her legs on either side of his thighs. "I'm going to be talking care of you tonight, so your parents can have some adult time."

"What's adult time?" Leah asked, as she eyed the pocket on Dean's T-shirt, which had a suspicious bulge in it.

"It's very, _very_, boring," Dean said, his voice as serious as possible. "You'll learn all about it when you get older, but you don't want to hear about it now. You'll fall right to sleep, it's just_ that_ boring. But you and me? We're going to have a great time, right?"

"Right!" Leah happily agreed, still looking at his pocket. "What'cha got in your pocket, Uncle Dean?" she asked.

"Do I have something in my pocket?" Dean said, looking down at it. "Hmm, I guess I do. I don't remember putting anything there. I wonder what it could be?" He slid his hands between the sofa cushions on either side of him and pretended he couldn't move them. "Maybe you need to check and see what it is, because my hands are stuck to the cushion."

"No, they aren't," she disagreed, as she reached into his pocket. She pulled a small white pouch with a picture of a purple bunny on it and studied it. "_Fruit snacks!_" she exclaimed with the same joy adult women reserved for gifts of diamonds.

"Really?" Dean pretended surprise. "Now, how did those get there?"

"You put them there," Leah said. "So I could find them!" She slid off his lap and ran over to her mother who was coming into the room. "Mommy, look, Unca Dean gave me_ fruit snacks!_"

"Wow," Jessica said, looking at the package. "Bunny fruits, your favorite!"

"Yeah, the berry ones, too." The young girl grinned. "Can I have them now? _Please?_"

"I don't know," Jessica said, looking as if she was giving this idea grave consideration. "I don't want you to spoil your dinner."

"Mommy, I did good in Karate!" Leah reminded her. "I _deserve_ a snack!"

"Well," Jessica appeared to ponder this for awhile, then nodded. "I guess so."

"Yay!" Leah ran back over to the sofa and sat down in the place her father had vacated to head over to Jessica. She opened the package and pulled one out, offering it to Dean. "You want one?"

"Sure," Dean took the proffered snack and popped it in his mouth. "Snozzleberry! My favorite."

"No it's not," Leah said, shaking her head and frowning at him.

"Yes it is," Dean insisted. "I'm the one eating it, so I should know what it tastes like and it definitely tastes like a Snozzleberry."

"No, it doesn't!" Leah disagreed and went on to explain her reason for disagreeing, "because there's no such thing as a Snozzleberry."

"Really?" Dean scratched his head in mock puzzlement. "Well, now that you're saying that, maybe it tastes like raspberry instead."

While this exchange was taking place, Roman had walked over and greeted Jessica with a hug and a kiss. Nothing too graphic, just a sweet, familiar kiss, but Dean caught it out of the corner of his eye and could see the sparks flying between the two of them. _Yeah_, he thought to himself as he finished chewing the tiny fruit snack, _They need some time alone togethe__r. If I had someone who made those sparks fly with me, I wouldn't be doing dinner and a movie. I'd leave the kid with the babysitter and head for the first hotel where we could- _He shook his head, forcing himself to stop that train of thought.

"Dean, I can't tell you how grateful I am that you agreed to watch Leah for us," Jessica said. She and Roman walked over to a recliner, arms around each other. Roman sat down in the chair, and she sat on the arm.

"It's not a problem. Me and the little ankle biter will have a great time," Dean said, ruffling Leah's hair. "And it's the least I can do for you guys letting me visit for a couple days."

"Well, with everything that happened, we thought you might like to stay with family right now, rather than head off to Vegas all by yourself." Jessica smiled at him.

Dean almost scowled but caught himself and shrugged. He liked Jessica just fine and felt she was perfect for Roman, but sometimes her honesty could be just a tiny bit too much. Yes, he was bugged about Seth, about the whole disbanding of The Shield, but he didn't want to talk about it. Not to her anyway. It was a guy thing, you didn't sit around and discuss your woes with your friend's lady unless you had been friends with her first, or she was your sister. Since Jessica was neither, he didn't feel comfortable agreeing, even if it was the truth. "Uh-" he began and then realized he had absolutely no way to respond that wouldn't sound like he was either giving in and admitting to being upset, or being a disagreeable jerk.

"Hey," Roman interrupted, sensing Dean's awkwardness. "Jessie, before we go out tonight, didn't you have some stuff in the office you wanted to go over with me?" Since Roman wasn't home very much, there was always _something_ that needed to be looked at. It was the perfect excuse to shift the conversation.

"Yes, I do," Jessica got up off the arm of the recliner. "Dean, do you mind? We'll just be in the next room."

"Nope, have fun," Dean said, shooting Roman a grateful look.

When they were out of the room, Leah looked at Dean. "I'm glad you're my babysitter tonight," she said, grinning. "We'll have fun!"

"Sure we will," he agreed. She bounced a little bit on the sofa, something Dean had to admit he found rather adorable. He didn't consider himself one of those people who went all mushy over the thought or the sight of babies, and toddlers could be annoying little screech monsters, but kids Leah's age were pretty cool. He appreciated that some of them, Leah included, had such an enthusiasm for life that there were times they just couldn't sit still waiting for the next great thing to happen. He didn't think he'd ever felt like that in his life, or if he could, he didn't remember. His memories of his early childhood, for the most part, sucked.

She looked down, as if she just remembered she was still wearing her Karate gi and frowned. "I need to change!" she exclaimed, running out of the room. "PLAY CLOTHES!" she shouted, clearly delighted with the opportunity to change her outfit and ran into her room.

She returned a few minutes later, wearing a pair of jeans and a Shield T-shirt, that was on backwards. Dean swallowed when he recognized the shirt. _ I wonder if she knows__ her Daddy's team is no more__?_ He knew that she thought of Seth as another uncle too, and figured her parents hadn't told her yet. _ I guess she hasn't watched Raw._ He knew Jessica Tivo'ed the show and sometimes let her watch it later, at least the parts with her dad in it. He would have bet money she hadn't seen the latest Raw, the one where Seth had- "C'mere, Squirt," he said quickly to stop the train of thought.

She ran over and jumped on the couch next to him. "What?"

"Your shirt is on backwards, let's fix that." Carefully, he helped her thread her arms through the sleeves so they were at her sides. "Oops, your arms disappeared," He joked.

"No they didn't." She shook her head. "They're inside my shirt."

"Really? I don't believe you." He twisted the shirt so the artwork showing the three of them, Dean on the left, Seth on the right, Roman in the middle was on the front, then helped her thread her arms back into the sleeves. "Well, look at that, your arms were there all along."

"Unca Dean, you're silly!"

He looked at her, beaming up at him, the members of Shield scowling across her chest. "That's me," he agreed, trying not to look at the shirt. "Silly Uncle Dean."

She looked at him longer and frowned. "Are you okay?" she asked. "You looked all sad."

_Wow, even the kid can see it, _He shook his head, pushing away any negative thoughts and reached out and gently tugged one of her pigtails. "I'm fine, Rugrat," he told her. "I'm just great."

_End of Pt I_

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><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: No, I haven't abandoned the idea of a sequel to Chasing the Moonlight. I actually started this story before I even got the idea for Chasing the Storm. I just want to finish this one first, before I start worrying about that one. <strong>_

_**FEEDBACK IS IMPORTANT. I am not to proud to admit I only write fanfiction for the feedback. No feedback, no inspiration. If you took the time to read it, can't you take a few more seconds and let me know what you think? Good feedback makes me glow, critical feedback makes me strive to do better. I do try to answer any and all feedback I get. **_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dean Ambrose or Roman Reigns, they are the property of the WWE and/or the actors/sports entertainers that portray them. This story is for entertainment purposes only. Jessica and Leah are my creations only and any resemblance to them and any real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. **

**Part II**

"Roman, I swear, everything is going to be _fine_," Dean said, trying to keep the aggravation out of his voice. They were in the great room, the room that was a combination of kitchen, dining area, and family room. Roman was looking pretty good, wearing black slacks and a dress shirt, then again, even if the man was just wearing sweats, he looked good. Jessica was finishing getting dressed and Roman was using this time as a last chance to make sure Dean was up to the task of babysitting. "I took first aid, I even know CPR!" It wasn't a lie, either. One of the independents he wrestled in for awhile had some set up with the red cross that allowed the wrestlers to take first aid/CPR classes, because in their line of work, first aid could come in pretty handy. The courses were free, so Dean had taken them. "I even know the Heimlich maneuver."

"That's good," Roman said, nodding to re-enforce his approval. "But I just want to make sure that you know what to do in any situation. Jessica and I figure you could have pizza delivered, so no worries about dinner. Leah loves pizza."

_Thus saving me from using the stove,_ Dean thought. _Because you probably think I'll burn down your house. _ "Cool, I like pizza, too. Can't remember the last time I had it."

"Me either," Roman admitted. "Now, do you have the list of phone numbers I gave you?"

"Yes, Roman," Dean said, trying not roll his eyes. "_And_ the permission slip. _And_ I have the extra burner phone you keep for emergencies, in case my cell phone is unusable _and_ the land line fails. Jesu-" Roman frowned at him and Dean choked back what he was going to say and changed it. "Okay, sorry, I mean, Gosh and Golly Cheese Wiz, Mr. Cleaver! You and Mrs. Cleaver are only going to be gone for five or six hours. I think we'll be fine! Me and my girl Leah, we'll take good care of Wally and The Beaver."

"I know you'll do just fine," Roman said, his voice not exactly showing the same confidence his words indicated they should. "I just want to make sure all the bases are covered."

"They're _covered_," Dean said, unable to contain himself and not only rolling his eyes, but shaking his head, too. "The aren't just covered, they're also smothered, diced, and capped. We'll be fine. I _am_ an adult. When I'm not on the road, I _do_ live alone. I have done such complicated things as prepare a sandwich or tie my shoes without causing a national emergency. Leah is a good kid, I'm sure we'll be just fine."

"I sure you will be, too," a voice added.

Dean and Roman both turned to see Jessica walking into the room, wearing a simple sun dress that on a lot of women would have looked ordinary, but on her, manage to look stunning. _Not surprising,_ Dean thought, trying not to stare, _She'd look good in a paper sack._ From the first time he had met Jessica, which was back in the days when he, Roman and Seth were in developmental, he'd thought she was a beautiful woman, but he'd also been struck with how perfect she and Roman were together. While other guys in the locker room had made jokes about how if Roman ever left her, they'd be on her doorstep ready to fill his shoes, Dean never felt that way. She was like a painting in a museum. He could look at all he wanted, he could appreciate the beauty, but she didn't belong to him, and he was fine with that. He looked over at Roman who was staring at Jessica as if she were the last glass of water in the desert, and shook his head. "Hey, Roman, might want to close your mouth, or you might start catching flies."

Roman shook his head, snapping himself back into reality. He reached over and smacked Dean in the shoulder, not too hard, but not too softly either, as he smiled at his fiance. "You look great."

"Hey!" Dean objected, rubbing his shoulder.

"Thank you," Jessica said, smiling.

Leah, who had been quietly coloring, looked up. "You look pretty, Mommy." She put down her crayon and ran over, throwing her arms around her mother.

"Thank you," Jessica hugged her daughter back. "Are you going to be good for your Uncle Dean?"

Leah nodded, her expression solemn.

Jessica looked at Roman, "See? She'll be fine, Dean will be fine. Shall we go?"

"Sure." Roman agreed, but he looked at Dean with an expression that clearly read, _You _will_ be on your best behavior when you watch our daughter, right? _

Even with Jessica's confidence in Dean's babysitting abilities, it still took another twenty minutes before they left. Leah needed a few more hugs, especially from her daddy, Jessica had to give some last minute information to Dean, but at least it was _practical _stuff like which place had the best pizza for delivery, and what time Leah was supposed to go to bed and how far he could push it if she was being stubborn. Finally though, they left. When Dean shut the door behind them, he looked at Leah. "So, it's just us, what do you want to do?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, what do you want to do?"

"Are you hungry?" he asked her, "Should we order pizza?"

She thought and shook her head. "No, not yet. Let's play!"

"Play what?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. Uh... dress up?"

Dean blinked. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said. He debated if he should ask her if she had played that game with her daddy before, and more important, if she had, did she have any pictures of her daddy if they had. He decided not to, but made a mental note to ask Roman about this game another time. Preferably when they were backstage with the rest of the WWE superstars. And to ask him about it in a louder than normal voice.

"Okay," Leah sighed, looking slightly crestfallen. "What do we play, then?"

Dean thought about it, trying to remember what games he'd played as a kid. He hadn't exactly had a lot of toys growing up, so the games he played were simple. "Ever play Hot Lava?" he asked her, as they headed back into the great room.

"No," she shook her head. "What's that?"

He looked around the room. There was a fair amount of furniture, a couch, two recliners, some end tables, so on and so forth in the living room section. Over in the dining section was a table with several chairs too. _Yeah, this will work. _ "It's easy," he explained as he climbed so he was standing on the sofa.

"Uncle Dean," she said, before he could explain. "You're not supposed to stand on the sofa!"

"But I have to," Dean said. "Because the floor is hot lava!" He reached down, grabbing her arm and pulled her up next to him. "Whew! Got you just in time!"

She looked at the floor, then at him, her expression puzzled. "No it isn't," she said. "It's just the floor."

"Yes it is," Dean said. "The floor is hot lava and we can't step on it, or we'll be burned to a crisp." He walked from the sofa onto the coffee table. Fortunately, Roman and Jessica had bought some pretty sturdy furniture for the great room or he might have had to quickly reconsider this game. But the coffee table held his weight easily. "And we can't stay in one place too long or the lava will rise and get us."

Leah thought for a moment, then carefully walked to the other end of the sofa, and then stepped onto the end table. "Like this?"

"Yup," Dean said, as he stepped over to one of the recliners. "That's how you do it, but you have to be faster or the lava is going to get you."

Leah thought for a moment, then grinned and leaped from the end table to the coffee table. "HOT LAVA!"

"That it!" Dean jumped back to the sofa. "HOT LAVA!"

Leah walked across the coffee table, her footsteps scattering the crayons she has spread out there. A few crayons and the coloring book she'd been using them on fell to the floor. "Oh no, my coloring book!" she exclaimed, although she didn't look too sad, "It fell in the lava!" She leaped onto the recliner Dean had just vacated.

"Oh no, it's a goner then," Dean said, as he moved to the other end of the sofa and climbed onto one of the end tables, which, like the coffee table was sturdy stuff. It was clear that Leah's parents had furnished this room knowing it would be played in. "Maybe when the hot lava disappears, we can find it."

"Won't it be burned?" Leah asked, giggling as she climbed on the end table on the opposite side of the couch from Dean.

"Maybe, but, that's the risk we take." Dean took one step on the coffee table. "HOT LAVA!"

She joined him on the coffee table, needing to jump because of her much shorter legs. "HOT LAVA!" She looked up at him. "We're running out of places."

"Yeah, we are," Dean agreed. He thought for a moment, then jumped on the sofa, grabbing a blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa. He wrapped it around himself. "This is my anti lava covering," he explained. "I can step in the lava wearing this, but it doesn't work very long, so I have to be quick. You'd better keep moving."

"Okay," she agreed, leaping over to one of the recliners.

He jumped onto the floor and as quick as he could, ran over to the dining area and started rearranging the table and the chairs to allow them access to more of the room. He did the same with the bar stools that lined up along the granite top island that also served for more casual dining. When he was finished, he nodded in satisfaction. It had been years since he'd played hot lava, but he still knew how to properly set up the room for it. He'd even taken into consideration that Leah was much smaller than he was and thus needed much less space between safe points. "Oh no!" He pushed the blanket off his shoulders as he climbed onto one of the chairs. "The anti lava blanket stopped working!"

"But you made it!" Leah cried out as she started leaping onto chairs, exploring the new paths through the "hot lava" that Dean had made. "But you gotta keep moving! HOT LAVA!"

"Yeah, keep moving!" Dean agreed as he made his way across the four bar stools he'd set up. "HOT LAVA!"

Leah made her way to the kitchen area, where due to her smaller size, she proved much more agile at climbing around the granite counter tops, stepping over the cook top, the sink, and various other obstacles, happily shouting, "HOT LAVA! HOT LAVA!" as she did so, which Dean remembered was half the fun of the game. Of course, trying to keep away from hot lava meant it was hard to be super careful, so there were some casualties. A wooden cutting board and a container full of cooking utensils like spoons and spatulas ended up crashing to the floor, but since nothing was breakable, Dean figured he could pick them up later.

After exploring the kitchen using the "no floor" rule, they made their way out of that area, and back into the living room area. For awhile, both of them leaped around the room, then into the kitchen, then back again. It didn't take long for many other things, sofa cushions, throw pillows, small (and thank god unbreakable) bits of bric-a-brac, and magazines ended up becoming victims to hot lava. And since Dean figured they couldn't fall any further, they might as well stay there until the kid went to bed. It wouldn't take him long at all to straighten it all up.

About the sixth time they circled the room, Dean was starting to get bored. He thought for a moment if there was anything he could do to liven up the game, mostly for himself, because Leah seemed pretty happy with just jumping around on the furniture. _Clearly, jumping on the furniture is something that has not been encourage in her life, _Dean thought to himself. Then, he remembered his duffel bag in the guest room and knew he had just the thing. "Hang on, Squirt," he called out, as he leaped to one of the dining room chairs that had been set up near the doorway leading to the rest of the house. "Let me get something!" He jumped from the chair into the hallway. "Don't let the lava get you!"

"I won't!" Leah shouted back, as she continued leaping from sofa, to end table, to kitchen chairs, to bar stools. "HOT LAVA!"

Dean ran for the guest room returned a few minutes later, something tucked into the waistband of his pants. He paused at the door way, calculated the distance to the closest chair, the one he had used to exit the room from. "Stay back," he called, as he walked down the hall a ways. "I'm coming through!" With that he sprinted and leaped onto the chair. It rocked a bit, and he had to scramble to hold on, but the chair stayed up.

Leah was on the coffee table. She looked at him and tipped her head to one side. "Uncle Dean, there's something in your pants."

Dean bit back the automatic response, remembering she was just a kid and doubted either Roman or Jessica would appreciate it if she ever shouted for_ any _reason, "That's what _she_ said!" Instead he pulled the object out of the waist band. "Nerf gun!"

She grinned, then frowned. "No fair! I don't have one!"

"You don't own your own Nerf gun?" Dean said in mock horror. "Your parents are being neglectful. But don't worry, we'll get you armed. Do you know where your Daddy's duffel bag is? The one he always takes with him when he's on the road? The one that probably smells like icky, smelly, sweaty, feet?"

She nodded. "It's in the laundry room."

"Let's go." The laundry room was a small room right off the kitchen that also doubled as a downstairs half bathroom. They made their way there quickly and efficiently, neither of them having to sacrifice themselves to the lava. But as they stood in front of the door, they realized another problem. The door was shut and it was too far from the closest "lava free" zone for them to open it. "What do we do?" Leah asked. They were standing on the island together, studying the problem.

"Well, I might have to risk being burned," Dean said, leaning over and putting his hands on his knees to study the problem more carefully. "But I think, if I leap, I can open the door and get inside before I'm too badly hurt. You'll have to stay out here and warn me if the lava starts getting too close." He looked at her, his expression grave. "Can you handle it, soldier?"

She nodded. "You can do it, Uncle Dean."

He straightened up and walked to the very end of the island, which was almost directly across from the door. "Okay, here goes!" He leaped, grateful that Roman and Jessica had picked a house with very high ceilings.

His intention was to jump, grasp the door handle, twist and roll inside. Yes, his feet would hit the floor, but if he did it quick enough, Leah would barely notice. He had no doubt he could do this, he had spent his adult life jumping in and out of wrestling rings, over barricades, off of the top rope. So he leaped without any worry or fear. He thudded against the door, grasped the handle and twisted it, as his body was sliding down the door to the floor. In that split second, the door popped open, not just because of the turning, but because of his weight on the latch. He went flying into the room where he rolled over and onto his feet, easily able to compensate for the unexpected door pop. Unfortunately, the door was not as trained as he was; the knob fell off the door and on to the floor.

"Uncle Dean, are you okay?" Leah called.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he picked up the knob and looked at it. It didn't look broken, it just looked as if it had popped off. _I'm sure I can figure out how to get it back on, _he thought, forgetting that he had never fixed a door knob in his life. Forgetting that the amount of home repairs he had done in his life could probably be counted off on one hand and he'd still be able to flip the bird to someone. _And_ that he had failed shop when he was in school. He put the knob on to the washer so it wouldn't be misplaced. then turned on the light and looked around the small room. He saw Roman's duffel bag quickly, but it was empty and laying on a drying rack. Obviously, it had been recently washed. _ Ha! _he thought, _And he claims __his feet don't stink__. Well, if __they __didn't stink, your fiance wouldn't have to wash __the duffel bag where you keep your smelly socks__, would she?_ He didn't know when the last time was that he had washed _his_ duffel bag and it smelled just fine to him. Fortunately, he noticed a smaller bag on top of the dryer. "There it is!" He grabbed the bag and opened it. Roman's Nerf collection lay inside. He grabbed one of Roman's guns, the Maverick, and the ammo for it, and opened the door. "Here!" he called. "Catch!" He tossed Leah the gun.

She caught it and stared at it. "Is this _Daddy's?"_ she asked, a tinge of awe in her voice, as if she could not quite believe her Daddy had toys.

"Yup," Dean nodded and looked out of the room. "Move back," he called to Leah. When she did, he leaped from the doorway, back on to the island. "Your Daddy, me, and your Uncle Seth, we all have Nerf guns."

"Why?" Leah asked.

"Because it gets boring on the road," Dean explained. "Let me show you how to load it."

The Nerf guns had actually been Seth's idea. There were times on the road when they had just enough time to be bored, but not enough time to do anything about it. A half hour here, an hour there, where they were stuck at the hotel or motel waiting until they could go to that interview, get to the arena, head to the airport. Not enough time to go to the gym or to do much of anything but wait. And boredom could be the worst. All three of them were used to being active, doing nothing was horrible. Seth had bought three Nerf guns and gave one to Dean and one to Roman. "Better to have something to do rather than sit around and watch you two bicker," was his opinion.

It had turned out to be a great solution. They started by just shooting each other in hotel rooms, but soon enough, it was such a great way to kill time that the fights spilled out of the rooms to other places. In the old days when they stayed in the out of the way, cheaper motels, they would go in the back, where there was often empty land between the motel and the highway (because there is _always_ a highway in the back of a cheap motel) where they would run around shooting each other. On long car trips, there were several times that if they had the time, they would pull into a rest stop and burn off energy having a Nerf battle. They had even had them in the back parking lots of arenas. More than a few other wrestlers had bought their own guns and joined in with them too, if time allowed. And there were even times when strangers had joined in with them, if they happened to have their own Nerf guns.

"Okay," Dean leaned over so he was on her level and showed Leah how to load the gun and how to shoot. These were the first guns, the ones Seth had bought them. All three of them had bought other ones later, but the Mavericks had the advantage of being very easy to use. While the box had said "Ages Eight and Up," Dean knew Leah could handle it, and he was right. In less than five minutes, she was handling it as if she'd been using one for years.

"Uncle Dean? What about the-" she paused, thinking of the word he had used. "Ammo? It's on the floor, how do we get it back without getting burned?"

Dean thought, realizing this was going to be a problem and knew he had to change the game now. "I was wrong. The floor isn't lava, it's zombie goo."

"Zombie goo?" She looked at him, head tipped to one side.

"Yeah. You can get down to get your ammo, but you become a zombie." His brain was working, fleshing out this game. "And the only way to be 'cured' is to hit me with your gun. Then I become a zombie. Zombies can go anywhere on the floor, but they can't get on furniture. Humans can only be on the furniture. Do you think you have it?"

She nodded. "I'll be a zombie first!" she exclaimed, "'Cause I need to get my ammo back." She slid off the island, ran to where her ammo had landed and started to gather it up.

Dean wasn't sure if she fully understood the game or not, but she surprised him at how quickly she did catch on. She loaded her gun and then turned and took aim. Dean ducked as she fired, leaping off of the island onto one of the bar stools and headed out of the kitchen area, trying to put some distance between the two of them.

Zombie goo turned out to be as much, if not more, fun as Hot Lava. They chased each other around the great room, taking turns being human or zombie. Then, as they switched back and forth, over and over again, they started to forget if they were human or zombie. At that point, the game just turned into a Nerf gun free-for-all, and the furniture became obstacles to work around, or places to hide behind to take aim.

_Who says I can't baby sit?_ Dean thought, feeling a little smug. Leah was having a wonderful time, racing around, yelling happily as she ducked behind the sofa or the recliners, or the kitchen island, leaning out to take aim on him. _This is easy! _ Of course, this much fun came with a cost and as he looked around, he noticed the room was in a total state of chaos, but he was sure that he could put it back to rights in no time at all, so he wasn't worried. Even if Leah pushed her bed time to the last minute, he would still have roughly two and a half hours before Roman and Jessica were due home.

A little while later though, Leah came out from her hiding place behind the sofa. Since this was obviously a cease fire move, Dean lowered his gun. "What's up, kiddo?"

"Uncle Dean, I'm getting hungry," she announced.

Now that she mentioned it, he was feeling a little peckish himself. He stood up and walked out behind the dining table, which they had tipped on its side at one point, to use as a hiding spot. "Okay, we can handle that. We're going to get pizza."

She shook her head, "I don't want pizza."

"What do you want?" he asked her, hoping it wouldn't be complicated.

"Spaghetti."

_Great, boiling water, finding the noodles, searching for sauce, nope, does not sound like fun, _he thought. "Your parents said we'd have pizza."

"I don't want pizza," she stubbornly insisted. "I want spaghetti."

_Well, at least she doesn't call it Paw-sketty like so many other kids do. _He had a cousin growing up, that stayed with them sometimes who called it that. Everyone thought it was so cute, but Dean thought it was stupid. _By the time you were three, or at the oldest, four, you should stop with the stupid baby talk. SPA-ghetti was not difficult to say. _ "I don't know how to cook spaghetti," he said, deciding that would work better than telling her, "I just don't want to go to the bother of making it."

"You don't have to," Leah said, as she ran into the kitchen, jumping over some books that had fallen to the floor during the fight. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a take out menu. "The pizza place has spaghetti!"

Dean went over and looked at the menu, sure enough, spaghetti was on it. "Okay then, you can have spaghetti. I'm going to get pizza though, is that okay?"

She nodded as Dean pulled out his cell phone and started dialing the number.

_End of Part II_

_**Author Notes: I don't know if Roman, Seth, and Dean have every owned or play with Nerf guns. I just found the idea of the three of them, running around the back of motels playing Nerf wars to be amusing. Also, it gave Dean something to liven up the Hot Lava game. Because, obviously, Leah is just too good a child and needs a little corruption in her life and Dean is exactly the uncle to cause it.**_

_**Just A Reader**** Thank you for your review. I figure Dean's pretty good with kids around Leah's age and older, because he can relate. Going on the old Mox promos and some of what's been said by Dean himself, he didn't have much of a childhood, and I figure he makes up for that sometimes by being a kid now. Of course, that's exactly why Roman is a bit (well, okay, a lot) overprotective.**_

_**To the other fine folks who left reviews? Thank you. I know I've answered them individually, but I still want the time to thank you in public, because you should know that if it wasn't for you, I'd have lost interest in this story. It's inspiration that keeps me writing.**_

_**To everyone else reading this? I'll say what I've said a million times... I am NOT to proud to beg or to admit that the ONLY reason I write this stuff is for the feedback. If I don't get feedback, then I'm writing in a vacuum, tossing in and getting nothing out. If I write professionally, I get a paycheck. When I write fan fiction I get feedback. So, if you want to see me keep writing and you've take the time to read this far, won't you take that extra few seconds and let me know what you think? A positive review makes me glow. A critical review makes me strive to improve. **_


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, or... they are the property of the WWE and/or the actors/sports entertainers that portray them. This story is for entertainment purposes only. Jessica and Leah are my creations only and any resemblance to them and any real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><strong>Part III<strong>

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang and Dean went to answer it. They had gone back to playing with the Nerf guns while they waited, because if you didn't find _something_ to do, time stood still when you were waiting for a pizza delivery and Dean knew that. He tucked his Nerf gun into the waistband of his pants and answered the door.

"Here's your order." The delivery driver, a guy who looked to be in his late teens or early '20s, sporting a T-shirt with the name of the pizza place and an extreme case of acne held out a pizza box with a Styrofoam container on the top. "That'll be-" He stopped abruptly when he saw Dean and changed his words. "Holy crap!"

"Little on the high side, don't you think?" Dean said, taking the boxes. "Oh well, do you have change for a 'What The Hell?' That's the smallest I've got."

The driver ignored Dean's joke and stared at him. "You're-you're-"

"-Jay Lethal?" Dean interrupted, having the feeling that if he didn't, the driver would be saying, "You're" for the next twenty minutes and the pizza would get cold. "Nah, I get that all the time. I guess we do look alike."

"No!" The kid almost shouted. "You're Dean Ambrose! Shield, right?"

_Yeah, when there __**was**__ a Shield_, Dean thought, but he nodded. "Yeah, you caught me. I'm him."

"Holy crap!" the driver repeated. "Do you live here? I mean, I thought you lived in Vegas, but-"

Dean stopped listening. This wasn't just a fan, it was a _big_ fan, Dean could tell. Someone who got on the 'net all the time, probably a member of every wrestling forum, read every dirt sheet, so on and so forth. "No," he finally said, not caring if he interrupted. "I don't live here. I'm just borrowing the place from a buddy of mine. Someone not in the business," he hastily added, not wanting Roman or his family to have to deal with a pizza boy camped out in the yard. "I'll only be here a couple days."

"Wow!" The pizza boy shook his head, still astounded at his good luck to be delivering pizza to one of his favorite Sports Entertainers. "Can-can I have your autograph?" he finally managed to ask. "You can have your pizza and stuff for free if you will, okay?"

Dean would have probably done the autograph, no strings attached, but if the kid was going to give him a free pizza? Then he would get a free pizza. "Sure, what do you want me to sign?"

"Uh..." the driver patted his pockets, then pointed to the top of the pizza box Dean was holding. "You can sign the menu. If you're just staying here a couple days, you don't need it, right?"

"Good point." Dean put the order on a table in the hall and removed the menu. The pizza guy had pulled a Sharpie out from a pocket and handed it to him. "What's your name?"

"Jacob. Oh wow, this is great!" the now-named pizza delivery boy exclaimed. "I love you guys. Shield is the best, well you _were_ the best, I'm sorry about Monday, that really sucked."

"It wasn't your fault," Dean pointed out. "No reason for you to be sorry."

"I'm going to miss you guys working together, I can't believe they had Seth betray you. That sucked."

_Yes, it did, _Dean thought._ It sucked big time. _But he wasn't going to say that, instead he shrugged. "That's the business for you. Turn around so I can use your back to sign this."

"Awesome!" Jacob turned around and Dean stepped out the door and onto the top step. Using Jacob's back as a makeshift desk, Dean scribbled on the menu and signed his name.

"Here you go!" Dean handed Jacob the menu when he turned around.

Jacob took the menu with the same reverence one might accept their first born child into their arms, seconds after delivery. "Wow!" His voice was an excited whisper as he read what Dean had written. "To Jacob, my number one fan. Oxy-10, FTW! Dean Ambrose." He stared at Dean, puzzled for a moment. "Are you suggesting I do drugs?"

"Nope," Dean shook his head. "It's zit cream. Dude, no offense, but you _seriously_ need to do _something._"

"I know, I know," Jacob didn't seem at all upset about Dean's making note of his acne, which showed how thrilled he was at the chance to meet him. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome." Dean stepped back into the house. "Uh, no offense, Jacob. I'm sure you're a fascinating guy who I could spend hours talking with, but my pizza is getting cold and, I've got a very charming young lady in there, waiting for her spaghetti, if you get my drift."

"Oh! Of course!" Jacob exclaimed. "I won't bother you anymore. It was an honor to meet you! And thank you for the autograph!"

"Thank you for the pizza," Dean said, and shut the door. _I didn't really lie,_ he told himself. _ Leah is charming. I just neglected to mention that she's my niece and she's five._ He walked into the great room with the pizza and the spaghetti. "Dinner's here!"

Leah had been entertaining herself by firing Roman's Nerf gun all around the room and had knocked over a couple of pictures, but when he came in, she put the gun down and followed him into the kitchen area. "Good, I'm hungry."

He put the pizza and the Styrofoam container with the spaghetti on the island counter top and looked around. Thanks to their war, there wasn't really any place to sit unless he wanted to do some straightening out, which he didn't. He was hungry and wanted to eat his pizza. "Let's have a picnic on the floor," he suggested.

"Yay!" Leah shouted, thinking this was a fine idea. "Picnic!"

They found a clear spot between the dining area and the family room area and decided that would do. Dean set her up with the spaghetti and the plastic fork included, and put down his pizza box. "Okay, let me just go get something for us to drink and we'll be all set."

"Okay."

Poking around the refrigerator, he found a six pack of beer and grabbed one. Beer wasn't exactly the best thing to drink when you were trying to stay fit, it could bloat you up, but, there was something about pizza that just cried out for beer. Moving around a few things, he spotted a couple bottles of apple juice with a familiar brown label that Roman called, "The Good Stuff." Next to that was a six pack of Quick chocolate milk. "Hey, do you want apple juice or chocolate milk?" he called out.

"Chocolate milk!" Leah exclaimed, which surprised him. According to Roman, Apple Juice was her weakness, a beverage so loved, they sometimes used to bribe her into doing things she didn't like to do. But, he supposed everyone liked a change now and then. The bottles of Quick were pretty small, so he grabbed two of them.

He sat down across from her, handing her one of the bottles of Quick. "Can you open it, or do you need help?"

"I can do it!" She twisted the bottle open. "Wow, chocolate milk!" The moment the bottle was open, she took a huge swallow.

"Yeah, chocolate milk is pretty awesome," Dean agreed, as he opened up his bottle of beer and put it down next to him. He picked up the pizza box and opened it. "Mm, pizza."

Leah leaned over and looked into the box. "I want pizza!"

Dean looked over at her. "No, you want spaghetti," he reminded her. "And you have spaghetti. This is my pizza."

"Unca Dean, I want pizza!" the child's tone of voice was suspiciously close to a whine.

"No, you don't!" He argued. "You want spaghetti! I told you we were going to get pizza and you insisted you wanted spaghetti!"

"Changed my mind, I want _pizza!"_ Her lower lip stuck out and began to tremble.

"But-" he began, only to be interrupted by the sound of "Sexy and I know it," coming out of his cell phone. "Hold on, let me take this."

He walked into the laundry room for some privacy and took the phone out of his pocket and answered it. "Hi, Roman,"

"Hey, Dean," Roman's voice sounded cheerful. "How's it going?"

"Your daughter wants pizza," Dean stated, glad he could talk to the person responsible for this, since reasoning with a five year old seemed out of the question.

"Well, that's why we suggested you order pizza," Roman said.

"The problem is that when we went to order _pizza_, she insisted she wanted _spaghetti_. We ordered _spaghetti._ _Spaghetti _was delivered. Now she wants _pizza._"

Roman laughed, which did absolutely nothing to calm Dean down. "Oh, we should have warned you. She does that. She thinks she wants spaghetti, but then when the pizza comes, she changes her mind. It's just a stage she's going through."

Dean pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a moment with the same expression he would have used to stare at Roman himself had he been there. Then, he brought it back to his ear. "You gave me the number of her dance instructor, 'just in case,' but you didn't think to mention to me that she might ask for _spaghetti_ when she really wanted _pizza?_"

"I didn't think," Roman said, still not sounding very upset. "It's no big deal, you got a pizza, right?"

"Yes," Dean said, having a funny feeling where this was going.

"So? Give her a piece of your pizza, she'll be fine."

"But it's _my_ pizza!"

"Dean, she's _five_. She'll eat one piece and that'll be it. You can give her some fruit for desert, if she says she's still hungry. We've got apples, bananas, strawberries, and grapes in the house, she loves all of them. Don't worry." Roman sounded positively cheerful.

_It's easy for him to be happy, _Dean thought._ No one is asking him to share _his_ pizza. _"Does she mind sausage and peperoni?"

"You'll have to take the sausage off," Roman said. "But she loves peperoni."

"Great," Dean sighed, thinking about picking off pieces of sausage. _That will be a pain._ "So, why did you call? Everything cool with you and Jess?"

"Yes," Roman said. "But we might be a little later than we thought we would be. The restaurant has a really long waiting list. If it's a problem, we can-"

"-No, that's fine," Dean interrupted quickly, as he noticed the knob he'd ripped off the door earlier. If Roman came home now and saw the house the way it was, it would be a disaster. "Everything is under control here, we're doing fine, so you and Jessica just have a great time, do whatever, and I'll be here when you get back." He thought for a moment, then added, "Leah too, of course, but she'll be asleep."

"Okay," Roman said, then paused and added, "Are you sure everything is okay? You sounded just a little bit stressed there."

"Nope, everything is great," Dean said, "Perfect, actually. I just would like to eat my pizza before it gets too cold."

"Okay. Can I talk to Leah?"

"Uh...okay." He walked out of the room and handed Leah the phone. _Please don't tell him the house is a wreck, please don't tell him,_ he silently prayed,_ it's not that bad, it'll take me ten minutes to straighten it up, please don't tell him. _ "Leah, your Dad wants to talk to you."

She took the phone from him and brought it up to her ear. "Daddy!"

While she spoke to her father, Dean went into the kitchen and got a plate and returned. While she spoke to Roman, he took out one of the pieces of pizza and started picking sausage off of it and listening to as much as he could.

"Yeah, Daddy, I'm having lots of fun. Yes, I'm being good. Because I thought I wanted spaghetti. I know." She sighed on that last part, but cheered up quickly. "I love you! Yes, I will. I Love Mommy, too, bye."

Dean's sigh of relief was loud as she handed the phone back to him. "Is he still on the line?"

"Nope, he hung up," Leah said, then pointed to the plate Dean was holding. "Is that for me?"

"Yes, it's for you," Dean said, handing her the plate. "I took the sausage off."

"Thank you." The smile on her face was so bright that suddenly Dean wasn't as upset about sharing his pizza as he had been. She sat down and started eating, taking drinks from the chocolate milk. "I love chocolate milk!" she declared, happily. "I wish Mommy let me have it all the time!"

"Yeah, chocolate milk is pretty good," Dean agreed. "Uh, your daddy didn't say anything about heading home, right away, did he?"

"No," she shook her head as she peeled a piece of peperoni off her slice of pizza and ate it. "He said I'd be asleep by the time he an' Mommy got home, but that he'd still stop in my room to make sure I was tucked in an' I'd see him in the morning."

"Ohthankgod," came out of his mouth, more of a sigh than real words.

* * *

><p>"Do you want some fruit or something?" Dean asked when she had finished her slice of pizza and he had eaten four. "Your dad says you can have some for desert."<p>

"Smoothie," she said, with a grin on her face. "I want a smoothie!"

"I have no clue how to make one of those," Dean confessed. "How about just some grapes or something?"

"No," Leah stubbornly insisted. "Sm_ooooooooo_thie."

"Kid, I don't know how to make a smoothie!" Dean said. "I told myself a long time ago, I would never learn to make anything that had a stupid name."

"It's easy!" Leah insisted, ignoring the stupid name remark. "I'll show you!" She leaped to her feet and ran into the kitchen, flinging open the refrigerator door. "_F__ruit__!_" She reached in and grabbed a container of strawberries. "We need _fruit__!_"

He got up and followed her into the kitchen where she was putting the strawberries on the counter. _Well, I guess it can't be that hard,_ he thought to himself. _Isn't a smooth__ie__ just blended fruit and some other crap? _ He looked around and found the blender, one of those fancy ones that looked like it came right out of the Jetson's kitchen. "Is this what we make it in?"

She nodded. "I want strawberries, bananas, and grapes in mine!"

Strawberries and banana sounded fine, but he wondered about the grapes. Then again, he wasn't five years old and he didn't drink smoothies. Maybe grapes were standard stuff? He looked at the container of strawberries. "Did your Mommy wash these before she put them in the refrigerator?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, we'll wash them, just to be sure," He plugged the drain on one half of the double sink and started running water. "Here, you can do that." He dumped the entire container in the water, Then, he grabbed one of the stools that had been used as a refuge from lava and re-purposed back it into a stool so Leah could reach the sink easily. He lifted her on to it.

"How do I wash them?" she asked, looking down at the strawberries, floating in the water.

"I don't know," Dean admitted. "I guess you just swish them around." The head of the faucet came out from the base and could be used as a sprayer. He pulled at it and flicked the switch so the water sprayed out. "You can use this," he offered, handing it to her.

"Yay!" She took the sprayer and began spraying the strawberries, sinking them into the water already in the sink and giggling when they popped up.

While she amused herself with that, he peeled a couple bananas and stuffed them into the blender. Then, he got the grapes from the refrigerator and put them on the counter. "Just let the fruit soak for a second," he suggested, taking the sprayer from her and putting it back at the end of the faucet, the water still flowing. "I need you to take these grapes off the stems and put them in the water to wash."

"Okay," Leah agreed. She picked up the bunch of grapes and deftly started pulling them off the vine, popping them into the sink. "One grape, two grape, green grapes, blue grapes!" she chanted as she worked.

"Aren't blue grapes, blueberries?" he asked as he opened the refrigerator.

"No, silly," She said. "_Blueberries _are blueberries. But some grapes are almost blue."

He thought about that and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Hey, Lee-lee, what else do you need for a smoothie?"

She jumped off the stool and ran over to him, peering into the refrigerator with him. "That!" she said, pointing to a plastic container. "And that!" She pointed to a carton of milk.

He took the plastic container of plain low fat yogurt and the milk carton. "Do you know how much of each?" When Leah shook her head, indicating no, he shrugged. "We can figure this out." How hard could it be?

As he set the items down by the blender, he looked at the milk and frowned. "Soy milk? _Soy milk?"_ he repeated it in disbelief. "There is no such animal as a Soy," he shook his head. "There are no wildlife preserves where we can see the Mighty Wild Soy roaming about in its natural habitat. _Jacques __Cousteau_ never spoke of the Magnificent Soy of the Seas. Animal Planet doesn't have a reality show devoted to a colony of cute little Soy. Even PETA isn't protesting the human imprisonment of the soy.'"

Leah stared at him. "Huh?" she asked, her head tipping to one side as she studied him.

"I'm _saying_, Rugrat, that this is _not_ milk. Soy is not an animal, and milk is an _animal_ product. This is _juice._" He absentmindedly ruffled Leah's hair. "I don't know why your parents would give you.._.bean_ juice, rather than milk."

"It's the only milk I can drink," Leah explained. "Something about my toes or something." She shrugged, clearly not concerned.

"Your toes?" Dean frowned, trying to figure it out, but decided that it didn't matter and shook his head. "Well, okay, let's get this smoothie made." He got a spoon and dumped some of the yogurt into the blender and then added some of the soy milk. Not too much, because he really didn't like the stuff. Not that he had ever _tried_ it, he hadn't, but there just seemed to be something wrong with making fake milk. At least the people who made it could be honest and say, 'Bean Juice, It's Okay To Use it in Your Coffee!'

Meanwhile, Leah had taken the strawberries and grapes out of the sink and placed them on the counter. He scooped them up and tossed them into the blender with the other ingredients. "Does this look okay?" he asked.

She turned from the sink, her small brow furrowed. "It looks okay," she said, her voice suddenly very soft, compared to the usual enthusiastic tones she had been using all night.

"Cool" He put the lid on the blender with one hand, and pressed a button with the other. The blender whirred into life. With that started, he looked back at Leah. Normally she had a great _Café au lait _complexion, a shade or two darker than her father, but it had gone through a remarkable transformation so now it was closer to Shemus's skin tone. "Kid, are you okay?"

She was still on the stool by the sink, but she wasn't concentrating on the water, which, now that he looked at it, was starting to overflow from the sink and spill down the cabinet. "Unca Dean?" she said, her voice quivering, "I don' feel so good." She started to wobble on the stool.

"Oh crap!" He rushed over. As he did, the top of the blender, which he hadn't locked into place popped open, spattering the kitchen with yogurt, bean juice and fruit, but he barely noticed as he scooped Leah in his arms. "What's wrong, Mini-mite?"

"Don... don..." she said, hesitating, then blurted out, "Don'tfeelgood!" And the moment the words were out of her mouth, she threw up. But this wasn't just normal throwing up, the child seemed to erupt into a projectile vomit _fountain_, instantly covering the front of Dean with puke. "Sorry!" she cried out, and puked again.

"HOLY_ SHIT!_" Dean burst out, unable to stop himself. He moved Leah so she was at arms length, but didn't let go of her. "Oh my _god_, kid, what in the hell-"

"Sorry," she said, and puked again. This time with much less force so it spilled all over the front of her and on to the floor. "You owe money to the swear jar," she began, only to be stopped by another wave of nausea and another heave that sent further stomach contents escaping from her mouth.

"Okay, okay, it's going to be okay," Dean babbled, then, unable to stop, added, "Fuckityfuckfuck_fuck_," He had never seen this much puke come out of one tiny human being. He was_ sure _she was dying and didn't have clue what to do about it. He put the girl down on the floor, which was starting to get pretty damp with the sink overflowing. "Hang on, I'm getting help," he said, reaching for his phone.

Just as he was about to dial 911, the doorbell rang. While his first instinct was to ignore it, part of him thought that maybe it was someone who would know what to do in this situation. "Wait here, Leah!" he exclaimed. "Wait here, I'll be right back!"

He ran for the door, tripping over a chair, the same chair he had used to get in and out of the hallway when they were playing Hot Lava. His normally steady legs seemed to tie up on him, as he separated himself from the chair, finally leaping out of the way, rolling into the hallway, his puke covered shirt spattering droplets on the floor. He sprang to his feet and ran for the door, breathlessly opening it. "I hope whoever you are-"

The words cut off abruptly in his mouth as he saw who was there. For a moment, Dean forgot _everything_ as he stared at the person standing on Roman's stoop, forgot that he was covered in vomit, that Leah was puking in the great room, everything. All he could do was gape. "What the_ fuck?"_

"Ambrose, what the hell happened to you?" the visitor stared back at him, looking somewhere between horrified, concerned and disgusted, "And where's Roman?"

"He's out with Jessica. I'm babysitting-" Dean's voice cut off abruptly as he remembered what was happening in the great room. "Leah! She's sick!"

"Where is she?" The visitor sprang into the house, pushing him aside.

"In the main room," Dean said, even though that's exactly where the person was heading. He followed behind him. "Don't think for one _minute _this lets you off the hook, Seth _Motherfucking Rollins!_" he shouted after him.

**End of Pt III**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: Surprise! It's Seth. I figured he and Dean really needed to confront each other. <strong>

**To Iremmy**** Thank you for your review, I really appreciate it. **

**To the other fine folks who have reviewed? Thank you. I know I responded to all your reviews in your inboxes, but I still like to thank you in public. If it wasn't for reviews, I wouldn't bother to write fanfiction, never mind post it. **

**If you've come this far on the journey, why not help out a poor, starving (for feedback) fanfiction writer and let me know what you think of the story? Positive reviews make me glow, negative reviews make me strive to improve. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, or Seth Rollins, they are the property of the WWE and/or the actors/sports entertainers that portray them. This story is for entertainment purposes only. Jessica and Leah are my creations only and any resemblance to them and any real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p>Part IV<p>

Seth burst into the great room, Dean so close behind him that he was almost kicking his heels. Seth looked around the room, his eyes widening as he tried to take it all in. "Holy crap, Ambrose, what the _hell_ have you done?"

"Uncle Seth?" Leah tottered out of the kitchen area, still looking pale, shaky, and of course, still covered in vomit. "The...the water...overflowing... I don' _feel_ good," she hiccuped.

"Leah!" Seth raced over and scooped her up into his arms, not caring that the front of her was covered in her own puke. "Where does it hurt, Princess?"

"Tummy," she said, a small sob coming from her lips, "It hurts an' I don't like it!"

"Aw, it's okay," Seth shifted the child, sliding one arm under her buttocks so he could hold her with one arm. "Shh, Uncle Seth is here," he murmured soothingly, as he walked into the kitchen and with his free hand, shut off the blender, then the faucet. He reached down into the sink and pulled out the stopper. Then, he glared at Dean. "What happened?"

"I don't know!" Dean protested. "She was doing great, I was making her a smoothie and she suddenly turned as white as Paige and started puking! I didn't do anything, I swear!"

Seth put his other arm around Leah, swaying slightly to comfort her, rubbing her back in slow circles and thinking. Then he looked up at Dean. "Did you give her milk?"

"What?" Dean stared at him. "No, I didn't-" he began, then remembered. "Yeah, she had Quick with her pizza. But what's wrong with that?" But even as the words were coming out of his mouth, a feeling of dread began slithering through his brain, into his stomach and he remembered Leah saying that her mother gave her soy milk because of her toes. _Toes. Lack toes. Lactose._

"She's lactose intolerant, you_ idiot_," Seth exploded. "She can't drink milk! How much did you give her?"

"She drank two bottles of Quick," Dean said, "The stuff in the refrigerator."

Seth opened the refrigerator door and looked at the four remaining bottles of chocolate milk. "Eight ounces each," he mumbled, and looked at Dean, "You give the kid sixteen ounces of upset stomach. Brilliant, Ambrose, just brilliant."

"How was I supposed to know she was lactose intolerant?" Dean protested.

"The last time we stayed here, Jessica mentioned it," Seth said. "She said she had to be careful because Leah loved chocolate milk, but she could only drink chocolate _soy_ milk."

"If she's lactose intolerant, why do they keep Quick in the house?" Dean sputtered.

"Because Jessica likes to put it in her coffee sometimes," Seth said, rolling his eyes.

"Jesus Howard Christ, Roman gave me the number of her fu-freaking_ karate_ instructor, but he couldn't take _two seconds_ to tell me, 'my daughter is lactose intolerant, don't let her drink the delicious chocolate milk in the refrigerator.'"

"He probably figured you'd remember," Seth shot back. He was still patting Leah's back, murmuring to the child in between verbal spars with Dean. "_I _remembered."

"Well, I guess I'm not perfect, like Seth Motherfu-motherfreaking Rollins," Dean snapped. "Do we have to get her to the hospital?"

"No," Seth shook his head. "It isn't life threatening, she's just got an upset tummy, that will calm down. She might get gassy, or get diarrhea later, but looking at you, her, and the kitchen, I think she upchucked most of it before it could get too far into her intestines." He kissed the top of Leah's head and turned his attention to her. "How are you doing, sweetheart?"

"Tummy still hurts," she murmured, nuzzling into Seth's neck. She wasn't crying, but there were tears spilling on her cheeks.

"I know it does," Seth said, still rocking her, still rubbing her back. He looked back at Dean. "And what were you _doing_ in this place? It's a disaster!"

"None of your business!" Dean snapped, not wanting to explain to him. "And what the hell are _you_ doing here, anyway?"

"I wanted to talk to Roman," Seth said.

"Why do _you _care?" Dean said, aware that he was sounding like a petulant child, less mature than Leah, who actually was a child, but not caring. "You have your new friends now, Trips, Steph, and Orton. You don't need Roman, you don't need me anymore."

"You're right, I don't," Seth snapped back. "I don't need you, I never did need either of you-"

"I knew it," Dean interrupted angrily. "Shield never meant a damned thing to you_ in_ the ring and our friendship never meant a damned thing to you _outside_ the ring."

"I never said that," Seth said, glaring at him. "If you would let me finish, I said I never needed you but-"

"Shut up!" Dean cried out, unable to stand what he was hearing. "Just shut the fuck up you fat necked, weasel faced, small and skinny-armed mother fu-fudger!"

"What the heck do my_ arms_ have to do with anything?" Seth looked confused. "What the heck are you-"

"Stop it!"

It was Leah who spoke, pulling away from Seth's shoulder. "Stop it, don't fight!" She spoke loudly, but her voice wavered and she still looked pale. "You an' Uncle Dean are 'posed to be friends! And friends aren't 'posed to fight, they're 'posed to _love_ each other! So stop it and _play nice!"_ Her speech finished, she hiccuped, burped, and buried her face in Seth's shoulder again.

Even though Dean knew, deep inside that Leah was absolutely right, he still couldn't resist muttering, "We're not friends anymore," under his breath. Seth glared at him, but fortunately, Leah didn't seem to hear.

"Look, we've got bigger problems right now," Seth said. "So, until we get the kid set and-" he paused to let his gaze sweep around the room, "-other things, truce, okay?"

Dean scowled. He wanted to tell Seth to get the hell out. To leave and not come back and that it was okay, that he'd handle everything just fine without him. But, there was another part of him that was grateful. That wanted Seth to do what Seth did best and take over this entire situation and make everything right again. And he was angry at Seth for being here, angry at himself for the part of him that was so glad to see his former brother. "We don't need you," he muttered darkly. "We'll do just fine without you."

Seth rolled his eyes and glared at him. "I'm going to take care of Leah. You are going to just stand there. Touch nothing."

"You can't-" Dean began.

"Nothing," Seth interrupted, as he stalked out of the room with Leah.

"You're not my par-" Dean tried again,

"Nothing!"

"Oh yeah? Well you can just-"

"-_**NOTHING!**_" Seth roared back.

* * *

><p>When Seth returned, twenty minutes or so later, now shirtless, Dean was standing on the patio in the back yard smoking a cigarette. Seth didn't hesitate, he opened the sliding door, walked over, ripped the cigarette out of his mouth, threw it to the ground and crushed it under his foot. He held out his hand. "Give me the rest," he demanded.<p>

"No." Strangely, though his words were defiant, Dean found himself into his pocket and pulling out a package of cigarettes as if some alien had taken over his body. Seth took them and twisted the pack in his hands, reducing it to nothing but broken bits of paper, foil, cardboard, and tobacco. "Hey!" Dean barked. "You owe me eight bucks for those!"

"I'll put it in the swear jar for you," Seth said, his voice matter of fact. "Now, you're going to march yourself to Leah's room and tell her everything is okay. She's worried about you."

"Is she okay?"

"She'll be fine," Seth assured him. "I gave her some kids Pepto-Bismol and it's settling her stomach. I also gave her a bath, got her in her pajamas and off to bed, but she won't go to sleep until you talk to her."

"Why is she worried about me?" Dean frowned.

"Oh, I don't know," Seth tried not to sound exasperated, but trace amounts were sneaking into his tone. "Maybe because she puked all over you, which reminds me, go change and clean up before you see her, you smell. And, maybe the fact that we were snipping at each other like a couple of pissed off purse dogs might have upset her a bit. She doesn't know what happened on RAW. She thinks we're still Shield."

"I'm not a purse dog," Dean said, scowling, "I'm a pit bull. You can be one of those yappy purse dogs. You can be Stephanie's purse dog. Yap Yap, Gee, Stephanie, you look great in that dress. Yap Yap, gimmie a cookie, Randy! Yap yap, red is your color, Kane. Yap yap, can I suck your dick, Trips?"

Seth glared at him, nostrils flared. "Go."

"You can't tell me-"

"-_Go_." Seth pointed to the sliding door. "Wash up, change, visit kid. I am not saying one more word to you until you've done those three things."

"Maybe I don't want to talk to you anyway."

"_**GO!**_" Seth's voice was a roar now. Dean turned and went into the house.

* * *

><p>It was a freshly washed and changed Dean who walked into Leah's room a little while later. She was sitting up in her bed, looking at a book. When she saw Dean she smiled. "Hi, Uncle Dean." She patted the side of the bed. "Sit with me."<p>

He came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling, kid?"

"Better." She yawned, then looked serious. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, honestly puzzled.

"That I sicked all over you," she said, eyes wide. "I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't mean it," he said. "You were sick. No one wants to be sick. I just want to make sure you're okay."

She nodded, closing her book and putting it on the night stand by her. "Uncle Dean, do you and Uncle Seth hate each other?"

"No," Dean said, _not_ adding (although he really wanted to)_ "I'm just annoyed at the weasel faced SOB sold us out to the authority for thirty p__ieces__ of silver, __or, I'm betting__,__ a shiny aluminum brief case, __but I'll get over it." _

"Then why were you yelling?" She looked at him, her eyes wide and serious.

"Because-because-" Dean began and sighed. "We had a disagreement," he finally said. He moved so he was lying next to her, his feet up on the bed. There was an extra pillow, which he grabbed and put between his head and the headboard. "C'mere, kidlette." She moved closer, he wrapped an arm around her. She put her head on his chest. "This doesn't hurt your tummy, right?"

"Nope," she shook her head. "Tummy is okay now." She twisted her neck to look up at him, "I can hear your heart."

"Does it sound good?"

She listened and shook her head. "It sounds sad."

He stared down at her. "Why would you think my heart sounds sad?"

"Because you an' Uncle Seth are-_ disagreeing,_" she said, with that wisdom children seem to have naturally, a wisdom adults often seem to lose when they get older. "You and Uncle Seth, and Daddy, are all friends. _Best_ friends. Best friends shouldn't fight but when they do, it makes your heart sound sad until you make up."

"Don't worry, kiddo," he said, putting his arm around her. "Your Uncle Seth and I will make up, I promise." _But__, _he thought to himself, _I__t isn't__ that easy. I wish it were, but it's not. I can forgive him. I might have already done so, but that doesn't change that our lives are drifting apart and it sucks, it sucks _so_ bad. _But he forced himself to smile and kiss the top of Leah's head. "Are you getting tired?"

She nodded. "Read me a story?" Her eyes wide and innocent.

"Aw, you know I can't resist you when you make those puppy dog eyes," Dean said, pretending to be more upset than he was. "Wouldn't you rather have Uncle Seth read you a story?"

She shook her head. "No. You do better voices, than Unca Seth, Unca Dean!" She looked around almost nervously for a moment, as if she half expected someone to leap out of her closet. "Don't tell him I told you, but your voices are _sometimes_ better than-" her voice dropped to barely a whisper and she shifted upwards so she was talking directly into his ear, "-Daddy's."

Even though part of him felt it was silly, an unmistakable feeling of pride swelled through him. _So, my voices are better than her__ Uncle Seth's and her__ Daddy's. __Take that, Seth Rollins, you sell out. __ Take that Roman Reigns! You might have the power to make every woman within a five hundred mile radius drop their panties at the sight of you, but your daughter prefers __**my**__ voices to read her a bedtime story. Top that, Mofo__s__! _

* * *

><p>By the time Dean got to the last page, Leah was asleep, her breathing gentle and even. Dean moved carefully to get out of the bed so as not to wake her and tucked the covers in around her and putting her favorite stuffed animal, a very cuddly teddy bear, into her arms. "Sleep well, kiddo," he whispered, giving the top of her head one last kiss.<p>

When he went back into the great room, it looked nothing like the room he had left. All the furniture had been put back into place, along with the various knickknacks, books, magazines, and lamps that had been on coffee and end tables. The kitchen had been cleaned, all traces of smoothie and puke eradicated and the floor mopped clean. There was almost no evidence that the room had once been a disaster, except that there were some crayons ground into the area rug by the sofa, a picture with no glass in the front, where it had been broken falling off the wall, and the door knob was still missing from the laundry room.

Seth also seemed to be missing, but Dean heard the sound of the washer and went to the laundry room. Seth wasn't there either, but there was a note on the washer:

_All of the puke clothes, along with the rest of your stuff is in the washer. Along with your duffel bag, because it smelled like stinking feet. If I'm not back by the time the washer stops, put clothing in drier. Put dryer on Permanent Press. Press button. DO NOT DO ANYTHING ELSE WITH CLOTHES. DRIER, PERMANENT PRESS, PRESS BUTTON. I will be back soon. OTHER THAN PUTTING CLOTHING IN THE DRIER, DO NOTHING ELSE. If you are bored, watch TV, but besides that DO ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!_

_Why doesn't anyone trust me?_" Dean though, scowling, but he went and sat down on the sofa and turned on the TV.

_**End of Pt IV**_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes: Next part will be the conclusion. I have to admit, I liked writing this part, because in my mind, and thus, in my world, this is the way it is with the three of them. Seth is the fixer, the problem solver, in other words, the headbrain. Dean is the heart, the emotions of the group. Roman is the brute force, the body of the group. So his reaction to what Dean has done to the house is, "Must get this fixed before Roman and Jessica get back." **

**Even though I didn't show it in the story, because this takes place pretty much from Deans POV, I do figure Leah took Unca Seth to task about the fighting when he was getting her cleaned up. I'm sure Unca Seth heard the same thing that Unca Dean heard about sad hearts and making up. Leah strikes me as the type of kid who isn't afraid to tell it like it is when she sees the need. **

**Just A Reader: **** I think most of us would love to play Nerf Wars with "the boys." That's exactly why I threw the idea in there (and trust me, if I can work a Nerf game with all of them into a story, I'll do it). Because the idea of the three of them, diving around with these brightly colored guns, shooting foam "bullets" at each other is just too awesome. ****And yeah, I figure Dean is awesome with Leah, because he's not afraid to be a kid with her. The Dean in my world sometimes lets the inner child take control of the show. And no, laughing at Dean covered in puke doesn't make you a bad person (If it does, then Betagirl and myself are bad too, so if it does, you've got lots of company) Yes, as it was explained in this part, Leah is lactose intolerant. Since this is one of those things that usually gets worse the older you are, rather than better, she's doomed to a life of bean juice in her coffee and on her cereal, poor thing. **

**To all others that reviewed this story? Thank you. I know I sent you all responses to your in-box, but I still like to thank you in public as well, to continue to remind you that it's your encouragement and support that keep me writing.**

**And you.. yes, _you_ out there, the one that's been reading this story and not saying anything. Don't think I can't see you! Won't you take a few extra seconds and let me know if you're liking this story or not? I mean, we've come this far together, will a few words hurt? Even if you don't like it, you can tell me. I'm a big girl, I can take it. And if you do leave feedback, you get a reward! A shiny "thank you for your review!" note in your inbox. If you're not registered on this site, you get a thank you in the author's notes of the next chapter, with whatever name you use! **

**See you all for the conclusion, soon, I hope. **

**Willow**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own Dean Ambrose, Roman Reigns, or Seth Rollins, they are the property of the WWE and/or the actors/sports entertainers that portray them. This story is for entertainment purposes only. Jessica and Leah are my creations only and any resemblance to them and any real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental. **

* * *

><p><em><strong>Part V (The conclusion)<strong>_

Seth returned about half an hour later with a new knob for the laundry room, a picture frame that looked to be almost identical to the one with the broken glass, another six pack of chocolate Quick, and one of those rental carpet cleaners. "Let's get this finished," he said to Dean.

"Nice to see you, too, asshole," Dean muttered. "And you look like a fucking idiot." Seth had obviously "borrowed" one of Roman's shirts, to replace the one that had gotten puke on it, and the muscular man looked almost like a kid brother who had decided to wear one of his Dad's shirts. Seth had a good build, but Roman was bigger and it showed with that T-shirt.

"I hope you're keeping a running tally of what you owe the swear jar," Seth remarked, ignoring the comments about his appearance, "you know the rules."

"You know the rules," Dean grumbled, mocking Seth's voice. "And before you ask, yes, laundry is in the drier, I put it on permanent press, and that's _all_ I did."

"Good." Seth had already started setting up the carpet cleaner. "You'd better pray this works, Dean, because if it doesn't, the jig is up." He checked to make sure the machine was working, then handed Dean a spray bottle. "I've vacuumed up all the bits I could, what's left is just the stuff I couldn't get out. You will spray this on the stain, wait the appropriate amount of time the bottle tells you to wait and then use the machine. While you are doing that, I'm going to fix the knob. You're lucky, the Home Depot had the exact same knob, so you might never have to explain how you broke it. To them, at least; to me is another story."

"We were playing Hot Lava," Dean mumbled as he sprayed the carpet with the solution Seth had given him. "And why do_ I_ have to clean the carpet? Why can't I fix the knob?"

"Have you ever replaced a door knob before?" Seth asked pointedly.

"No," Dean admitted.

"I rest my case. Clean the rug, I'll fix the door." He grabbed the picture with the broken glass too. "Oh, and I hope you're thirsty, because you have four bottles of Quick to drink tonight," he added, holding up the six pack.

"You can drink them," Dean said.

"I hate Quick."

"Then pour them down the sink," Dean muttered, even though he actually liked Nestles Quick.

"I'll save them, you might want them when you're done with the rug," Seth decided.

The room became quiet except for the sounds of the two men working at their tasks. When Seth finished installing the new door knob and replacing the glass in the frame, he came over to see how Dean was progressing. "Good job," he remarked, seeing that all the crayon was gone. "And it looks like you did the whole rug."

Dean nodded, scowling because he was upset that part of him liked hearing Seth's praise. "I had to," he explained. "That one area looked cleaner than the rest of the carpet, so I cleaned the whole thing. It's still a little damp, but hopefully, when Roman and Jessica get home, they won't lounge around in here. It'll be dry in the morning."

"Yeah, you'd better hope they go right to bed," Seth said, smiling.

"If they didn't fight while they were out, they will," Dean said. "You should have seen the way the two of them were looking at each other when they were going out."

"Let me guess, like a peanut butter sandwich-" Seth began.

"-In a famine," Dean finished. Despite himself, he grinned. This was a joke the two of them had shared before. Roman never thought it was that funny, so it was something between Seth and himself. _And I'm going to miss that,_ he thought._ I like that I had jokes that only Roman got, and jokes only Seth got. I even didn't mind that the two of them had jokes I didn't get. It was like it bonded us tighter together. I can't explain why, but it did._

Seth grinned too, then rubbed his hands together. "Let me get this in the car," he said, gathering up the carpet cleaning machine. "I'll be right back."

"You can just go," Dean suggested, still not willing to admit to Seth that he liked having him here and remembering he was still upset with the man. "I don't _need_ you."

"Yeah, right," Seth rolled his eyes. "Wait here, Ambrose. When I get back, we're going to talk."

"You can't make me talk unless I want to!" Dean shouted after him, like a spoiled child. "I can do anything I want, I'm an adult!"

"Whatever!"

* * *

><p>When Seth returned, only a few minutes later, he looked at Dean. "Okay, why are you being such a jerk?" he demanded.<p>

"I'm not the jerk," Dean protested. "_You're_ the jerk."

"Why?"

Dean wasn't expecting that, he was expecting Seth would plunge right into explanations about why he had done what he had, betraying Shield. _You shouldn't be asking, you should be explaining,_ he thought. "Because-Because-" he sputtered.

"Because I did what needed to be done?" Seth folded his arms across his chest and looked at him. "Because I volunteered to be the one that ended Shield? If I recall, we weren't given an option on if Shield was going to break up, we were told that was fact. _ I _didn't break up The Shield, _I _just agreed to be the fall guy."

"You agreed to be Authorities Bitch!" Dean snapped. "And you did it so eagerly. You-you practically leaped out of your seat like your ass was on fire. 'Oh, I'll do it Triple H'." He started using his Seth mocking voice, which was actually a pretty good imitation of how Seth spoke, or might have spoken, had someone put his balls in a nutcracker and was slowly applying pressure. "'I don't mind being the bad guy!'"

"I _don't _mind playing a bad guy," Seth said, his voice perfectly calm. "I liked it best when Shield were the out of control faction, when we were the guys who claimed they fought for "justice" but "justice" was whatever we said it was. We were bad ass-"

"-Now who owes the swear jar!" Dean said, smirking.

"-And I liked it," Seth continue, ignoring Dean's interruption. "I didn't want us to turn into the good guys. I was against that from the start."

"Oh? So you think you'll be one of the cool kids now?" Dean taunted. "Hanging out with Evolution? Being part of The Authority? You're not going to be cool, Seth. You're going to get to that lunch table and guess what? You're going to find out they're the most uncool group around. Yeah, they claim to be the bad asses, but look at them! They cheat! They whine all the time to Triple H and Stephanie!"

"Dean, I hate to break it to you," Seth said, "But wrestling? It's fiction, dude. It's scripted."

"Shut up!" Dean snapped. "You know what I mean! We were _cool,_ Seth. Good guys or bad guys, no one was cooler than Shield. And you gave that all up to become someone who's going to go, 'yes Trips, no Trips, let me lick your boots, Trips.' Is that what you want? To portray some dumb ass lackey?"

"Why should you care?" Seth said, still perfectly calm. "You're going to be the vindictive SOB whose going to make my life a living Hell. They're going to let you draw on your crazy now, which the fans are going to eat with a spoon and beg for more. Yeah, I'm going to be the annoying kid brother to Authority, that's true, but you're going to be the cool, crazy guy. You're going to shine like the sun, Dean, and you know it. So, what is the problem?"

"Shield wasn't dead!" Dean yelled. "We dominated Evolution the night before! This was just a cheap trick to get a ratings pop!"

"Keep your voice down, you don't want to wake Leah and have her hear us arguing," Seth said, then shook his head. "No, better thought. We're going outside."

"We can't leave her alone-"

"-She'll be fine, we'll be right out in the patio," Seth said.

"No."

Seth rolled his eyes then reached out and grabbed Dean by the arm and dragged him outside as if he were a disobedient schoolboy. Dean put up a token protest, but allowed himself to be lead. When they were standing on the patio, Seth let him go. "Now, listen, Ambrose, because I'm not going to explain this over and over again, like you're some moronic idiot. You have a brain, you use it every day, so pay attention. Someone had to break up Shield. There was no choice given in the matter. When we were told this, you and Roman were exchanging looks like you'd rather die than be the traitor. So, I volunteered. Am I unhappy I volunteered? Hell no. You can think Shield had more time left, but the clock _was_ running out."

"No it-"

"It's not your time to speak, Ambrose, it's mine," Seth said, cutting him off. "You've been snipping at me since I got here, and now is your time to listen. As I was saying, the clock was running out. We were either going to end with a bang or a whimper and I'll be dipped in monkey shit if-"

"-Hah!" Dean interrupted, "Another dollar for the swear jar, you're getting as bad as me."

"Ambrose!" Seth reached out and grabbed Dean by the front of his T-shirt, twisting the fabric in his hands and pulling him so close that Dean could smell the mint gum he liked to chew on his breath. "_SHUT UP AND LISTEN!_"

Dean twisted away from his grasp, but said nothing, just glared at him.

"I didn't want to see Shield end with a whimper. So, I volunteered so we could end it with a bang. And it did end with a bang. Even you have to agree with that."

"Yeah, several bangs," Dean said. "All on Roman's and my bodies."

"Yeah, it did get rough," Seth agreed. "But it had to look good, and it did. We were the best freaking faction the WWE has ever seen, the best they probably ever _will_ see. We deserved to go out with a bang so loud that it was heard around the world. And whether you like it or not, that's _exactly_ what happened. Now you're going to be pushed to the moon and I'll be the one behind you doing most of the shoving. You're going to get the chance to show them how awesome you really are, both in the ring and on the mike. So, again, I'm asking you, Ambrose, _What **Is** The Fucking Problem?" _

Dean stared at him, nostrils flaring, half of him caught between wanting to punch Seth, and the other half wanting him to just go away; go away and leave him alone, because he didn't want to face up to this, he just wanted to be alone to nurse his hatred for Seth, to blame him for everything. "The fucking problem is-" he began, and felt something inside of him pushing forward, something he didn't want. He fought it back. "The fucking problem is," he repeated, "that it's over! It's all over. We're _not_ Shield in the ring, we're _not_ brothers outside the ring. You're going to be spouting hate about me and I'm going to be spouting it about you. Nobody plays the game of 'We pretend this is real so the bad guys hate the good guys and vice versa' anymore, so they won't tell us we can't be seen together out of the ring, but they don't like to make the fakery_ too_ obvious. So, while we can do what we want, you know and I know there will be a lot of frowning if we're seen off stage together, hanging out and getting along. They aren't going to put us on interviews together, they aren't going to ask us to sit at the same place to sign autographs, they aren't going to want us to show up together to any events. If Trips, Steph, and Vince had _their_ way, you wouldn't _be_ here, right now."

"But they don't have their way," Seth said. "I _am_ here, aren't I? And if Stephanie and Hunter came in the door, Vince tap dancing right behind them, right now, they couldn't say a blessed word about it." He shook his head. "Man, sometimes I can't _believe_ you, Ambrose. Do you know why I came here tonight?"

"Shouldn't the real question be; do I give a damn why you came here?" Dean countered. "Which I _don't._"

"I came here tonight to talk to Roman about how to handle things with you," Seth continued as if Dean hadn't said anything. "Because I _knew_ after Monday night that you didn't get it and that even though this was all scripted, you were hurt."

"You could have tried to talk to me about it," Dean suggested, still angry. "You didn't have to run to Roman."

"Dean, I tried to text you early Tuesday morning, after Roman suggested I should," Seth reminded him. "And you suggested I use my Smart phone as a suppository, and then blocked my number. Do you remember that?"

Dean did remember it, now that Seth mentioned it. He had still been pretty angry when he got Seth's text and had flipped back a message. Seth was putting it rather eloquently, the message Dean had texted back was, 'Take your phone and cram it up your ass, Rollins.' "I was pissed," Dean said, his defense sounding stupid and childish to his own ears."

"Really? I _never_ would have guessed." Seth said, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. "But, that's why I'm here. Because I'm worried about you, you dumb_ fuck_." Normally, Seth tried to respect Roman's rules of not swearing in his house, but this was a really ridiculous situation, and they weren't technically_ in_ the house, they were in the back yard. "_You're _the one saying it's all over now. _you're_ the one saying we're not friends. Not me, Ambrose. I'm still Seth. I'm still the guy who had your back. I'm not your Shield brother anymore, because there _is _no Shield. And I'm a Sports Entertainer doing my job, which right now is to go after you, but I'm still the _same_ guy you shared a hotel room with all those times. I'm the _same_ guy who got on planes with you, the _same_ guy who probably rode a million miles in rental cars with you. We said once we were brothers by choice. _ I _didn't choose to reject that. If you do, that's _your_ business, but it's not mine."

"But you still wanted to end Shield!" Dean reminded him.

"What I _wanted_ was to advance my career. I wanted to advance _all_ our careers," Seth disagreed. "You think we could have kept Shield around longer, I thought it was time to end it. I won't lie about that. My goal was _never_ to be _a_ member of the best faction in Sports Entertainment, my goal is to become _the _best superstar the WWE has ever seen. Shield was a stepping stone, but at this point, we were clinging to that stone like it was an island and the water was rising. It was step on to the next stone or get swept away with the current. I won't get swept away. But that doesn't mean I stopped being your friend, it doesn't mean that I stopped being your brother by choice."

"Oh yeah?" Dean sniffed, hoping Seth heard it as one of those contemptuous sniffs, but thinking that probably wasn't the case. Knowing Seth, he was probably thinking that Dean had forgotten to take his allergy medication, which he _had_ forgotten, but that was besides the point. Seth was always the master at remembering everything. Even Roman needed to make notes sometimes as to what they were supposed to do each day and at what time on the road. Not Seth. Seth used to keep his own schedule, and Dean's and Romans in his head, perfectly. And on top of that, he remembered the little things that everyone else in the world forgot, like that there was something in Florida, and most other hot, humid places that activated Dean's allergies, so he should really take Allegra when he was in one of those places. Or that Roman _hated_ the smell of dial soap, so take the extra bars of soap in the hotels that weren't dial, so if a place did have dial, they could switch it.

"Yeah," Seth said, shaking his head. "Look, let's resolve this the easy way." He stepped back from Dean and braced himself. "Hit me."

Dean found his hand curling into a fist, but forced himself to loosen it. "Don't be an idiot," he mumbled, "This isn't RAW, you can't try that."

"Really?" Seth asked. "Funny, _you_ seem to think that because it's on RAW or Smackdown it's real. I mean, just because I had to take you out on the show, you're now acting like it's real. Okay, so, hit me. I know you, Ambrose, you let it all churn up inside your guts until you have to do something about it, here's the something, hit me."

"No," Dean said. Part of him wanted to, but not if Seth was telling him it was all right. He wanted to sneak up behind him and sock him when he didn't expect it.

"Aw, scared?" Seth smirked. "Because you know I can kick your ass for real?"

"No you can't," Dean snapped.

"Really?" Seth snorted. "That's your problem, Ambrose, you think you're better than you really are. You always thought you were the tough guy of the Shield, but you weren't. Crazy, yes, but it's not an admirable trait to be crazy. They used to lock folks up for being crazy. You're not tough, you're not even special. Hell, they probably have medications to fix the type of crazy you are, but you won't try to find them, because that's all you have to make you unique. If you did fix that crazy, you'd find out you're just.._.nothing._ A mid card wrestler who needs to be carried and pushed all the way. Fuck it," He shook his head, looking as if he he had come to a conclusion. "I've tried to be nice, tried to be cool with you, but I've had it, now I speak the _real_ truth, none of this whitewashed bullshit I've been spouting just to make you feel good about yourself. Who cares? Why do you think _I _was the one to take you out, while Randy took Roman out? Because Hunter, Steph, Vince, _everyone_ knows I'll push you. That I can make _you_ look good. Because you're not special, Dean. All you've got is that crazy gimmick and that's going to wear thin pretty soon."

"Shut up!" Dean advanced towards Seth, then stopped. "I'm warning you."

"Oh?" Seth laughed, "You're warning me? Ooh, I'm _so_ scared. Dean Ambrose is warning me. Please, I'm not scared of you, Dean. There's nothing to be scared of. You're just some crazy guy who thinks his craziness makes him special. Crazy is a mental disease, Ambrose, not a personality trait. It doesn't make you special, it just makes you sick. And do you want to know the truth? I don't even think you're _that_ crazy. I think you put it on for attention, because it's all you have in this world."

"Shut up!" Dean raised his fist, giving Seth one last warning. "Not another word out of you!"

"Or what?" Seth shook his head. "See? That's what I mean, you're faking it. A real crazy person would have hit me by now, but not you. You're too scared to hit me for real, because you know, I can kick your ass and I don't need crazy to do it. I can do it because I'm stronger than you, I'm faster than you and I'm _better_ than you. I'm the best one out of the three of us. That's why I was willing to break up the Shield, because_ I _know I'm going places. You and Roman didn't want to, because both of you suspect the truth, that your careers are going to sputter out like a 67' Chevy with water in the carburetor. Once the rivalry between you and I stops, you'll be lucky to be jobbing for Fandango. They'll bring you out when they want to promote a new guy but otherwise, you'll be in the back, praying this will be the night they let you out of your cage to play for awhile. And people won't even remember you were once crazy, because instead you'll just be_ pathetic_. A pathetic little jobber, remembering the glory days when people gave a shit about him, but only because he was in a faction with _me_."

Dean opened his mouth to speak, then shut it, because there were no words anymore, there was nothing but anger. He jumped onto Seth, knocking him to the ground and was on top of him in a flash, hitting him, over and over again, not very hard, but wildly, as he had hit Roman the Monday night after this whole thing had begun, just hitting, trying to get rid of the anger inside him, trying to transfer it to Seth. And then, much to his horror, he realized he had a lump in his throat, a lump he hadn't felt in-well, he forgot when the last time he felt it, so he kept throwing punches, but they were getting wilder and wilder, and Seth was countering them easily, but it didn't matter, because at any moment, that _goddamned lump_ was going to break and it _had_ to break or it would choke him to death. Dean didn't care if it did, let him die right here, right now, but he knew his body had other plans and wasn't going to let him. And the lump got bigger and bigger and then broke and he rolled off of Seth, sitting on the grass and did something he hadn't done in so long, something he never thought he'd do again. Especially not over something so stupid, so childish as this, but sometimes the heart had different ideas than the head. He buried his face in his hands and let the lump burst and a sob broke from his body, loud and ugly and so obvious, he couldn't pretend it was anything _but_ a sob.

He kept his face hidden, letting the tears spill out of them, letting himself cry, something he just didn't _do_ anymore, and he wanted to stop _so_ badly, but the relief was _so_ powerful that he couldn't and he just kept crying, shoulder's shaking, snot running from his nose like a fountain, no doubt aggravated not only by his tears, but by his allergies.

He thought Seth would laugh at him, but Seth rose to his feet and went back into the house, When he came back, he had a box of tissues he'd taken from the downstairs bathroom. He pulled a handful from the box and handed them to him. Dean took them and blew his nose, instantly turning them into a soggy mess. "You'd better not tell anyone about this, Rollins," he threatened.

"So, I should destroy the pictures I took with my smart phone?" Seth said, that cocky grin on his face. "Instead of posting them to Instagram?"

"If I find out you took pictures, I will kill you," Dean said. sniffing one last time, sucking in the last of the tears and the snot. He stuffed the used tissues in his pocket, even though they'd make a gooey mess and grabbed for another handful out of the box. He wiped off his face, getting rid of all evidence. He rose to his feet, feeling shaky, but weirdly better, as if the pain he'd been bottling up these past few days, if not gone, was at least ebbing. He turned his head and spat out a wad of mucus.

"But imagine the fan fiction that will be written if pictures get out," Seth said, unable to resist grinning. "'Oh My God, Deanne is crying! Deane is showing his sensitive side! Must, write, story!'"

"Shut up, Seth," Dean said, but he was smiling himself, a smirking grin, but a grin none-the-less.

Seth walked over to him, and without hesitation, wrapped his arms around Dean, hugging him, a warm, brotherly hug that Dean found himself returning. "Thank _god _you finally hit me," Seth said when they drew apart. "I was having trouble coming up with more lies that you'd swallow. You know I didn't mean any of that, right?"

"I guess," Dean said, shrugging, although, part of him _did_ know and had known it all along. That's why he'd been so powerless. Because he knew Seth was risking himself to the God of Dean's anger, just to get him to let out the emotional poison that was running through Dean's veins.

"Look, I'll always be your brother," Seth said. "Roman too. When we started working together, we agreed, brothers in Shield, brothers outside the ring. Shield is gone, but we're still brothers. And I'm going to say things that'll hurt when we're having our conflicts in the ring, but that's just a part we're playing. The more people think I hate you, the more they'll _love_ you, and I'm going to make sure they love you a lot, Dean. I'm going to make sure they _drown_ you in love. I'm not going to be happy until they pop you so hard that when the first note of your theme music comes on, people are leaping to their feet, screaming your name."

"I guess that sounds pretty cool," Dean admitted, then sadly added, "but it's not going to be the same."

"Nope, not exactly," Seth agreed, his voice gentle. "But it won't be forever. Shield didn't last forever, this rivalry won't either. The day will come when we'll be on to different conflicts and it won't matter if we're all seen together again for business. In the meantime, we can still hang together outside the ring, as long as we're not working."

"I guess." Dean shrugged, then said, almost shyly, or at least shyly for Dean, "We're going to the zoo tomorrow. Do you believe it? The freakin' zoo. I guess Leah loves it."

"Good, Maybe you'll see that Rowin wears a lamb mask."

"Camel," Dean corrected.

"Lamb," Seth said.

"Camel." Dean stubbornly insisted.

"Lamb."

"Camel."

"Lamb."

"Okay, how about this," Dean suggested. "Let's both agree that whatever it is, it's _not_ a Llama."

Seth pretended to be thinking, then nodded. "Yeah, okay. That works." He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and looked at it. "I should get going, Roman and Jess should be home soon, and they don't need to know I was here. I accomplished what I wanted to anyway, which was to talk to you."

"I think the zoo we're going to is the Gulf one," Dean said, trying to sound offhand. "If you wanted to see Roman, you could just sort of show up tomorrow."

Seth looked at him and shook his head. "I have a flight in about two hours. I only flew here to talk to Roman about you. I have to get back. You're the lucky ones that has until tomorrow night to report."

"You flew here for just for a few hours to find out how to fix things up with me?" Dean tried not to sound shocked, but some of it still crept into his voice.

"Yeah," Seth said, that smirking little half-smile playing across his lips. "And I'd do it again. Because that's the sort of shit brothers do."

Dean grinned back. He wanted to thank Seth, to tell him how much he appreciated that Seth actually cared about him, but he couldn't. So, he said the first thing that came to his mind, "Man, do we owe that swear jar some money."

* * *

><p>When Roman and Jessica got back to the house, Dean was asleep on the couch, the TV playing an old black and white movie Roman didn't know the name of. He grabbed the remote and clicked it off and shook Dean by the shoulders. "Hey, buddy, we're home, maybe you should go to bed."<p>

Dean woke up and yawned. "Cool," he said, his mouth still full of sleep. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah," Roman admitted, "We did, thanks again for babysitting. Did everything go all right?"

"Everything went just great," Dean said, wanting to get to bed and continue sleeping, hopefully before they noticed that one of the pictures on the wall was in a slightly different frame then it had been when they left. Or that the carpet looked freshly shampooed and was still damp. Or that the door knob into the laundry room was much shinier now. "I'll see you guys in the morning. Night Roman, night, Jessica."

"Good night, Dean," Jessica called out as he left the room. When he was gone, she turned to Roman. "If anything the place looks cleaner than when we left. And you were _so_ worried. From what I can see, it must have been a pretty mellow night for Dean and Leah."

"Yeah," Roman said. "Maybe you're right, but..." His gaze went to a corner of the room where a clear plastic jar stood. "If things were so calm, maybe_ you_ can explain why the swear jar, which was empty this morning, is now almost full to the top?"

**The End**

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes: Well, here we are. Dean escaped the bullet... for now. I do have to wonder what will happen the next day. Because I don't think Leah could keep from letting Daddy know his other best friend, Unca Seth was there. <strong>

**Just A Reader**** Badgirl's club, FTW! Thank you for your review, I don't care if you sound like a broken recornd, you want to tell me how much you liked each chapter? Please, feel absolutely free, it's music to my ears! And, I know you shouldn't admit this about your own characters, but I'm starting to like Leah, too. She's not perfect, but she's not a brat either. **

**I think Seth helped Dean fix the house because that's what Seth does. No matter what happened, as we found out in this last chapter, Seth still considers Dean his brother and when your brother is in a fix (and might get killed by your other brother) you help him. **

**I'm still working on the 'nerf idea. I want to find a way to throw it into the sequel to Chasing the Moonlight, but I'm stalled on that one. Right now I'm working on a challenge fiction, but I'm hoping when I'm done with that, I'll be able to work on CTM2.**

**Iremmy**** Thank you. I really appreciate the review.**

**cazz21**** Thank you for your review, too. I would have sent my thanks directly to your in box, but you don't have that feature turned on, so I have to put it here. **

**To all the people who took the time to review this story, thank you. I have thanked all of you privately, but I still like to make the public thank you too. Because it's reviews that keep me writing. I was commenting to someone else, that the old standby of, "Well, if they really want to write it, they'll write it," isn't necessarily true. For some folks, I'm sure it is, but for me? I have plenty of ways to flex my imagination, writing is just one of them. I can daydream, I can role play it out with my S/O or with Betagirl. (It's actually a lot of fun to do that when I'm stuck on a part and I can't figure out what to do with it.) So, the only reason why I take the time to write this stuff down, to go through it, to send it off to Beta girl and have her rip it apart, so on and so forth, is for feedback. So, if you want to encourage, you know how. Sure, a long review complimenting me on my brilliant use of the word "And" is always appreciated, but even just saying, "Hey, I liked it!" at least tells me people are interested and is appreciated. And even if you didn't like it, you can tell me that too, as long as you're willing to tell me why you didn't like it. I know I sound like a broken record, but it's true, Good reviews make me glow. Critical reviews make me strive to improve. **

**Thank for taking this journey with me, it's been fun, hasn't it? **

**Willow**


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